Whips and Wands
by SisterSilverSnitch
Summary: "Um, Riddle?" "Yes?..." "Why did you summon a half naked man that looks like he came out of a sex dungeon?" "I didn't!" "...Well, he's here now. Better make the most of him." Where Harry is taken back nearly sixty years and meets the bane of his childhood existence. It can't be that easy, right? Warning: Small scenes of BDSM, attempt rape, and Dark!Harry. HPxTR
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything goes to their respective owners.**

 **I warn you that this story may get a little dark. I want to tap into the darker part of Harry Potter that we all know is there. Harry Potter is not evil in this story, nor is he a Dark Wizard. I only mean that he is not a perfect as the original story makes him out to be. There will be some BDSM but not a extensive amount since I want to focus more on reasons that Harry Potter is the way he is. This story is post Hogwarts and begins three years after the defeat of Voldemort and more details will be given as the story goes on.**

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Chapter I:

The dark room was large but held little furniture, only a bed, dresser and a chest. The windows were closed with heavy curtains that blocked out the light of the almost full moon. A thick smell of sweat and seamen filled the air and the only sounds that could be heard was a low whimper from the body that was tied tightly to the headboard. The body wore nothing but leather cuffs that were tied together at the wrists and connected to the thick straps on the wooden headboard. Another body sat next to the spent form, softly stroking the dark hair from his eye.

The second body stood up and picked up the feather whip to place it back in the black chest at the end of the bed. Once done he went back to the still tied body and reached for the leather strips. "Sleep, I'll wake you in a few." Once freed the body curled his arms to his chest and curled on his side, not bothering with a blanket because it wasn't needed. It was the beginning of August and after a long few hours of...extensive workouts, they would be warm enough to sleep through the night.

The other body moved and quietly left for the door on the other side of the room and entered the bathroom, careful to turn on the light after the door was closed. In the reflection the body saw a tall man with the permanently tousled, black hair that just barely touched his shoulders. His hard jawbone outlined his face, giving his a strong and possessive look and with bright emerald, green eyes to match. One on the most profound attribute of his appearance would probably be the famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead. When he was younger the scar was small and barely took up a inch of space but when the fateful day that he encountered and defeated the Dark Lord he had found out something even Dumbledore didn't know.

The scar was a permanent mark of Dark magic.

The scar grew that night after the war was over from the lack of control the Horcrux had over him. The tip stretched up and touched the hairline of his forehead while the bottom reached all the way to the under eyelid of his right eye, the line almost going right through his own pupil. He was shocked but never bothered to care about it, though it startled the rest of the Wizarding World. How shameful! The-Boy-Who-Lived with a permanent mark of Dark Magic?! Yeah, the public had a riot with that one.

But Harry Potter didn't care. He stopped caring years ago and never bothered to clear their doubts. Let them believe what they want, I know what I am and what I've done and it's none of their damn business. That's how he lived now, doing what he wanted, what he needed whenever.

Harry ran a hand through his hair before turning the shower on blasting the hot water as high as he could. The water brought ease to Harry's exhausted muscles and mind, allowing him a time of peace before a possible hurricane. He brought his hands to rub at his face before dragging his fingers down his chest, mapping out his own valleys of skin and muscles. It was a habit of him that he would do when he was younger, to see if he found any new scars or to feel the bones of his ribs and hips. Now that he was older Harry made sure to always eat, hating the feel of thin skin and fragile bones.

The door faintly opened but Harry was very aware of when a body was moving in his bedroom, years of being forced to watch his back taught him to listen to everything. The open shower hid nothing of Harry to the figure slowly walking into the water behind him. Unsure hands lightly caressed his shoulders and trailed down his spine. "You are suppose to be sleeping."

Jimmy, or was it Tommy, stepped closer and slowly brought his fingers to touch his shoulder blades. Harry hated people touching no matter who it was. His old friends use to pull him into too tight hugs, roughly rubbing his head, pulling at his arms to drag him away. No matter what the situation it was Harry never like being roughed up. But that doesn't mean he wanted to be treated like a delicate flower either. He wasn't weak and years of fighting a bloody war toughened him up.

Harry Potter just didn't like people touching.

"I wanted to join you, Milord." Bobby, or whatever his name is, whispered against the back of his neck. Harry could never remember the boy's name, or any of his partners for that matter, so he would settle for simple pet names like Kitten or Baby. And for some reason Kitten had a kink for calling Harry 'Milord'. Harry was never really turned on when he was called that but allowed Kitten to do so because it turned him on. Whatever the boy wanted.

Kitten was barely of legal age when he first approached Harry to be his sub. Still in Hogwarts and learning to become a Charms Professor, yet he loved to be spanked with bare hands while being tied and blindfolded before having his ass stretched wide for anyone willing. That was probably the reason why Harry had kept the boy for a few months now. "You had enough. Rest." It was a order and Kitten knew it.

"I shall wait for you then." Disappointment was clear in his tone of voice but Harry didn't care. He never allowed himself to get too close to any sub, it was in his rules.

1) Never take in any virgins.

2) Talk first, sex later.

3) Don't take any sub to your bed.

4) What happens behind closed doors stays forever behind closed doors.

5) Drop the sub if he/she gets too attached.

6) Don't ever meet them in public.

7) Make sure they know the rules!

It's a fairly simple list that Harry sticks by as if it was the Bible.

Moments later Harry leaves the shower and grabs only his towel to dry his hair. Kitten is laying on the bad on his stomach and seemed to finally doze off. This relaxes Harry a bit before he realizes that he would have to drop Kitten and walk away. The boy was getting far too attached for their own good. Harry tossed the towel to the side and reached for his black slacks and shoes. He needed to leave now, his thoughts screaming at him to sever all contact with the boy and move on with his life. Kitten would learn to do the same.

Within ten minutes Harry was out the door, leaving behind a note on the door explaining why he was leaving and what Kitten should do. Harry exited the abandoned apartment complex that was heavily glamoured and warded so muggles could get in. The building was actually a famous club owned by a perverted old man that had a boner for Harry and would allow him to do as he pleased, with a fair price of course. It would be a while before Harry would walk back in and find another partner to play with.

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"Are you still having those dreams, Harry?" The softly spoken question was practically on repeat every time he saw her. Her big, brown eyes stared at him with fear and pity while her forever bushy hair held her small face perfectly. Harry always met up with Hermione on Saturday afternoon for a cup of tea and cake. They've been doing this small tradition for a little over a year now and it made Harry smile to know that Hermione was still loyal to their friendship.

"Yeah...I wish you would quit asking me that." Harry grumbled while taking a sip. "It's nothing new, creepy dreams that replay over again."

Hermione lowered her gaze to the table between them. "I wish you would trust me enough to tell me more about these dreams. I hate not knowing how I can help you." Harry's eyes squeezed shut as he repressed a sigh. If there was anyone in this world that can make Harry climb mountains just for a flower it would be Hermione.

"I don't want to know what you would think of me if I told you." Harry opened his eyes and glanced around at the wizards and witches that still continue to gawk at him even years after the final battle. "I hate seeing judging eyes." A group of three young witches that couldn't of been older than fifteen were whispering to themselves as they tried to look appealing pretty. He only blinked at them blandly and turned back to Hermione.

She bit her lip. "Harry, for as long as I've know you, don't you think I would be the last person to judge you?" Her voice was soft, quiet and desperate. "I've seen you at your very worst and best. You wouldn't judge me for anything right?" Harry shook his head. "Then I would judge you either. Besides, they're dreams Harry. A result of an over reactive imagination."

Harry leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs on either sides of the table's legs. There was a faint cat call in the distance and Harry nearly groaned loudly, running out of patience for these people who obviously don't have lives. Harry pulled out a few gallons and signed his name on a napkin on the table. "Let's head back to my place and talk." The brightest smile that Harry had seen in months lit up Hermione's face.

They both stood up and apparated to Harry's secluded house near a beach. He bought this place privately and made sure that nobody except a few handful of people know about. Harry was content, for the first time since he first stepped through Hogwarts, with his home and planned on staying here for a very long time. "The lilies are growing beautifully, Harry." The house was small, fit for one person and an occasional guest with two medium size pots that the white lilies were growing at the front door.

Harry smiled. "Thank you, let's head inside. I'm gonna need a drink for this." Inside was very little furniture. Only a love seat, one large chair, a table and bookshelf filled in the main living room. The colors simple, purple and green with a splash of brown. Hermione sat herself on the love seat while Harry went to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of whisky and two glasses before going back to the room and offering a glass.

"Oh, no thanks Harry." He shrugged and poured himself a glass before dropping down in his seat and kicking off his shoes. They stayed into silence at first, not uncomfortable but strange silence. Hermione took a deep breath of air and leaned forward. "I want you to start from the beginning Harry. Tell me when they first start, what they were like and how you felt."

Harry took a swing of his hard drink before carefully placing it back on the table. "It started three days after the battle."

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 **Hello and welcome to the first chapter of Whips and Wands. Tell me what you think and I'll update as soon as I can. Until next time!~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything goes to their respective owners.**

 **I warn you that this story may get a little dark. I want to tap into the darker part of Harry Potter that we all know is there. Harry Potter is not evil in this story, nor is he a Dark Wizard. I only mean that he is not a perfect as the original story makes him out to be. There will be some BDSM but not a extensive amount since I want to focus more on reasons that Harry Potter is the way he is. This story is post Hogwarts and begins three years after the defeat of Voldemort and more details will be given as the story goes on.**

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Chapter II:

His bare feet patted softly through the familiar, stone hallway that led to an abandoned bathroom. He could feel the silk of his night pants hanging just barely off his hips and something leather in his hand but he couldn't look at it, wouldn't. The leather was both smooth and rough, a promise of something beautiful. Harry could feel the nervous drops of sweat rolled down from his neck to follow the line of his spine, giving him a little shiver when it went even lower.

He was on a mission, to where only his body knew for his mind couldn't process a single thought. While his heart began to rapidly beat in his chest he entered the bathroom and walked up to the sinks, his eyes instantly going for the snake marking under the faucet. Harry couldn't remember speaking the forbidden language of the snakes, nor calmly walking down the stairs and past the small bones of rats and the large, frail snake skin laying all over the ground. Soon he found himself standing outside the door of the Chamber, the same chamber he refused to see again since his second year.

The metal snakes retracted and the door swung open with a silent hiss. A wave of musk, water and something else unknown but made Harry's heart race even more and a sudden heat rest in the pit of his stomach. His body continued forward, the grip on the leather object tightened. The torches on the walls instantly lit up in a soft, green glow, only giving enough light to see the chained body hanging by the ceiling.

The body was completely stripped from any clothing covered only in a thin coat of sweat with a black cloth covering his eyes. His arm stretched highly above his head by chains and leather cuffs, his ankles spread only shoulder length apart but cuffed as well, his toes barely touching the cold stone ground. A metal ring, colored dark green, closed around his hard cock slightly shining from the green glow of the fire. Harry moved forward to get a better look at the body and felt his lips pull back and stretch over his teeth in a obvious grin. The body slightly flinched, letting him know he was still awake and very responsive.

Harry moved around the body to admire the pale, smooth skin tightly stretched over the firm muscles. His back was curved so perfectly like he was a marble sculpture made by Venus herself. He reached out with the very tip of his finger and lightly grazed the body's spine, enjoying the harsh flinch he made. Bright green eyes that glowed with such heat trailed the spine down to the two, soft globes of his arse and tightly gripped the left cheek before giving it a hard smack. The body hitched his breath before crying out a moan.

The heat in his stomach intensified and traveled to his lower reigns. Harry knelt behind the body and spread the slightly abused cheeks to see the black plug still in place. He hummed happily and pushed it further in and made a circular motion. The body yelped and cried in pleasure before Harry stopped seconds later, gripped his hips and pulled the hanging body back against him, making sure the body knew how hard he was for his vulnerability.

The body released a soft gasp and dropped his head back against Harry's shoulder. Harry smirked into the pale neck before pulling back and releasing the body, enjoying the small wiggle of need the body made. He began to rolled the hard leather object in his hand a few times, getting a feel for the handle before lifting it up and bringing it down across the pale surface of his back.

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Harry stopped and rested his head on his knuckles while getting more comfortable in his chair. Hermione stared at Harry with wide eyes, her hands resting in her lap and her lips pulled tightly together. He could tell, through her eyes, that she wasn't judging him but more of the situation of the dream, analyzing it. "Harry," she finally spoke after a long few minutes of silence, "did you know who that was? The man who was hanging by the chains?" He had to hand it to her. She never once stuttered or wiggled in her seat uncomfortably.

"I have an idea of who it may be." Harry replied. He swallowed the nerves down his throat and adjust himself in his seat, a little hard after think hard about the details of his dream. "I think...it was Tom Riddle." Green eyes instantly flew to the far wall on the other side of the room, knowing that Hermione would be trying to search his eyes. It wasn't like he had anything to hide but it still made him feel uncomfortable when she would stare that hard on him.

Hermione leaned forward, her arms moving to rest on her knees. "Tom riddle? As in...young Voldemort?" Harry refused to bite his lip as it was a nervous habit he picked up years ago. He only nodded and Hermione leaned back to her original position. Her hand moved to rub her chin and she let out a soft sigh. "Well, how did you react when you figured it was him?"

Harry licked his lips and thought back to the months he kept having the same recurring dream. "About three months after the battle, I think. I would have that same dream three to sometimes four nights a week, until one night it went a little farther and I was able to..." He paused, looking for the right words without sounding husky. "See his face when we...finished." He could tell Hermione was uncomfortable but she was a good friend and was determined to help him. "After that the dreams would change from different places and different...uh, positions."

Hermione made no comment about his now obvious arousal, since she was so use to it when growing up around hormonal teenagers. "Okay, so it's you and Tom Riddle, practicing BDSM?" He nodded and finally met her eyes. "Do you think this is about some unresolved issues with Voldemort?"

Harry blinked and raised a brow. "What? I killed him."

"Yes," Hermione sighed, "but it was a bit anticlimactic if you ask me. He was turned to ash and simply blown away. After all that man had done to you? I've would've been a little more content with a bit of pain with his death." Harry was surprised at her. "Think of it this way, you have been suffering for years with all kinds of pain, physically being one of the big ones, and Voldemort had died with very little." She shrugged and dropped her left leg over her right.

"Okay, I can get that but why Tom Riddle and not Voldemort himself? And why BDSM of all things?" Harry countered.

Hermione looked up thoughtfully. "Well, for one Voldemort was certainly not attractive by any means when you fought him. Maybe your mind was trying to tell your body something, like I need to shag someone but I also want to make Voldemort suffer some more." She paused and looked back at him. "Harry, I've seen Tom Riddle's picture at Hogwarts, he's a good looking man so I don't blame you for having these fantasies. Have you looked into BDSM?"

Now he began to bite his lip, unable to stop himself from nervously nodding his head. "Yeah, for the last couple years I've been exploring it. It been about four years since Voldemort was defeated, and trust me, I've been fight the urge for a long time for I began to look into it."

Hermione held up her hands. "No Harry, that's okay! I think you needed to look into it, your mind wouldn't have pushed you so far without a good reason." A small smile graced his features and she relaxed. "Okay, so you've looked into it, and liked it?"

"Yeah..." He could even find complete release unless he felt and heard a body under him cry in pain and pleasure.

"Well then, baby steps." He narrowed his eyes on her and she shrugged. "So, the first dream was you, Tom Riddle, and the Chamber of Secrets? I think you should start there."

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Think about, maybe it'll give you some closure to go back and reenter the Chamber. It won't hurt to try at least."

Harry gaze at her before dropping his eyes to his lap, relieved that he wasn't as hard anymore. "Maybe your right. I'll firecall Minnie tomorrow and see if I can quickly take a look in there. There might be something I missed in there."

Hermione stood up and smiled. "Good, now give me a hug."

Harry laughed and stood up to follow her orders. "Always, as usual, so bossy." Their embrace was warm and made Harry feel more at ease. When they pulled away Harry showed Hermione out and said their farewells before she was gone in a pop. He stood outside for a moment and glanced at the lilies beside his legs and smiled warmly. A gust of wind blew right into Harry seconds and nearly threw him off guard, his feet stumbling and his eyes wide. He remember feeling something similar back when he encountered Voldemort and Quirrell back at his first year at Hogwarts when the spirit of Voldemort flew right into him before flying off.

He felt suddenly uneasy and held onto the door frame to keep himself upright. He lungs felt unbearably dry and his knees weak, as if he had been running miles all day. When he was able to get his bearings together Harry pushing himself back up and cursed under his breath. That wasn't good.

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 **Hello! I know it's a little smaller than the first chapter but don't worry. I would love for you to comment and tell me what you thought and I'll update as soon as I have time to. Until next time!~**


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